


No Regrets

by Aria_Lerendeair



Series: Complaints and Protests are Useless (Or Coulson and Stark are Stubborn Bastards You Can't Say No To) [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And hilarity ensues, AoS Does Not Apply, Clint thinks Steve has a thing for Coulson, Fights, Insecurities, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Regrets, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting back together and being in a relationship has been good, great, even.  But when Clint is hurt and almost killed during a mission, Phil is left with the realization that he might never have had a chance to tell Clint how he feels.  Cue some awkwardness, some hilarity, and Steve giving Phil far too many knowing looks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final, official end to this series, the coda that I promised to write years and years ago and just now have gotten around to. (I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY.) <3

**  
  
**

Steve glanced from Clint to Phil and raised an eyebrow at the rigid postures they were both sporting.  Clint was limping (rather noticeably) after jumping off another building and being caught by Tony.  Tony’s suit wasn’t the gentlest.

"Clint, do you need to go to med-"

"I do not need to go to Medical!" Clint growled, looking at Steve and then back to Phil.  "I would have made the same call, a hundred times over.  I trust my team!"  

Phil took a step forward.  "He almost didn't make it to you!"  

Clint scoffed and rolled his eyes.  "Almost, we live and thrive in almosts, Coulson, you know that!  He caught me, I'm alive, a little bruised-"

"You have at least six bruised ribs, if not more injuries that you aren't saying," Phil growled, clenching his hands.  "You are going to medical."  

"No!" Clint snapped, looking over at Steve.  "I am fine, I am going to be fine, I need pizza and I need to sleep for at least ten hours."  

Phil stared at Clint as he stomped away towards his wing and sighed, exhaling slowly.  "Captain.  Are you uninjured?"  

Steve raised an eyebrow.  "I'm fine, Phil.  Most of my bruises will be gone in an hour or two."  

Phil nodded.  Tony had already hidden himself down in his lab, and if there was anything seriously wrong with him, JARVIS would have told him.  Banner was sleeping off his transformation, and Natasha was curled up in front of the TV.  Everyone present and accounted for.  

"Phil."  

Phil turned to look at Steve and winced at the look in those eyes.  "I know what you're going to say, you don't need to give me that look."  

"You're acting like you don't trust him," Steve said.  "I don't know what happened between you both before you fixed things, but this is obviously at the root of it."  

Phil sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  That was the problem.  He did trust Clint.  With his life, with the team's life.  But Clint considered his life completely expendable in comparison to the rest of his team, and fought like that.  "It's complicated."  

Steve snorted.  "Complicated is being frozen for seventy years, while all of your friends live and go on without you, only to wake up in a world that you don't recognize at all.  That is complicated.  Whatever you and Clint are going through?  Isn't complicated."  

Phil laughed and rubbed a hand over his face.  "I thought you were supposed to play fair, Steve."  

"My golden boy image only lasts until someone actually talks to me," Steve said, giving Phil a nudge in the shoulder.  "Now, go fix things."  

Phil glanced around the room and then back to Steve.  "Do you know I've never said 'I love you' to him?"  

Steve blanched, turning to look back at Phil.  "But you both-"

"Are very clearly attached and feel that way about each other.  Yes.  But due to the issues mentioned?  We've never said the words," Phil said, staring at the nearest wall.  

"So when Clint jumped-"  

"And none of you were within distance, not the Hulk, not Iron Man, he was out of arrows and didn't have another option when he jumped off that roof..."  

Steve gave a low whistle.  "Okay, I see why you're angry."  

Phil smiled a little and nodded.  "I am not angry with him, I'm-"

"Angry at yourself for not telling him, when you almost lost him," Steve finished.  

"Yes," Phil said.  

"Well," Steve said, wiping his hands off on his pants.  "I'm definitely not talking from experience or anything here, but, you should tell him.  Because this job doesn't have any guarantees, and it never will."  

Phil stared at Steve's back as the Captain walked away towards his own floor of Avengers Tower and took a moment to stare at the ceiling.  

"Jarvis?" he called.  

"Yes, sir?"  

"Where can I find him?" Phil asked, looking down the hallway.  If Clint had wanted to run, he would be as far away from the Avengers Tower as he could possibly get.  If he was still here...

"You can find him in the range, Agent Coulson."

Of course.  Phil took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and started the walk to the elevator.  

THUNK.  THUNK.  THUNK.  

Phil watched as arrow after arrow hit the center of the target, until Clint moved on to another.  He was positive Clint knew he was here, but he was focused on his shooting.  Phil stepped closer as Clint shot the last arrow from his quiver and waited for the other man to put his bow down before stepping up behind him.  

He cleared his throat.  “It has nothing to do with trust-”

“It has everything to do with trust!” Clint growled, spinning around to look at Phil.  “If you don’t trust me-”

“I do trust you!” Phil shot back, meeting Clint’s icy glare with one of his own.  

“You sure have a funny fucking way of showing it!”

Phil sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.  “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Clint.  I’m sorry that I snapped at you.  Are you hurt?”  

Clint relaxed a fraction and nodded.  “I’ll be sore for a while.  None of my ribs are broken, but I’ll definitely be tender.  Might be good to have a week of light duties baring any emergencies.”  

Phil smiled and nodded, recognizing the olive branch for what it was.  “I’ll sign the paperwork first thing in the morning.”  

“All right,” Clint said, stripping off his shooting glove in steady movements.  

“Clint?” Phil asked, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder.  Clint was still tense under his hand, and Phil took one last step to move forward and wrap his arms tightly around Clint.  The words he wanted, needed to say were stuck in his throat and he cleared his throat again.  

Clint sagged into his arms and Phil tightened his hold, supporting the archer.  At that small show of weakness, he forgot what he had been going to say and focused on Clint.  “Let’s get you into bed.”  

Clint gave a tired nod.  “Yeah.  Sounds good.”  

Phil half-walked, half-carried Clint to their bedroom and got him settled before sinking into the bed with him.  He carefully wrapped an arm around Clint’s waist and smiled when Clint made a grumpy noise and cuddled back to him properly.  

I love you.  

Steve was right.  He needed to say it before he lost the chance.  Phil pressed a slow kiss to Clint’s neck and closed his eyes.  He knew it.  Clint knew it.  They both knew it, how they felt.  It was obvious in everything they did for each other.  But say it?  Say the words to each other?  

Phil closed his eyes and forced himself to take a slow, deep breath.  He would find a way. He just needed to man up and tell Clint.  

**  
  
  
**

~!~!~  

**  
  
  
**

Clint’s week of light duties flew by and the archer was back to his full strength only a few weeks after that.  Phil smiled as the tension between them relaxed.  He still hadn’t found the right moment to say it, but Steve had taken to giving him knowing looks whenever they were together.  

Phil was doing his best to ignore them.  

He was failing.  

“So does Steve want to fuck you or something?”

Phil paused his a spoonful of his cereal halfway to his mouth.  “I beg your pardon?”  

Clint shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.  Phil saw the faked casualness for what it was and put his spoon down.  He cleared his throat and focused on Clint.  Easy to see the worry underneath the casual question.  "No, Steve does not want to fuck me."  

Clint snorted.  "He's certainly staring at you like it."  

Phil frowned and thought back to the way that Steve was looking at him yesterday afternoon and...well...fuck, if you didn't know why he was staring the way he was, it could very easily be taken out of context.  "He's staring at me, because he's waiting for something.  It has nothing to do with wanting to fuck me."  

"Oh," Clint said, chewing on his lower lip.  "What is he waiting for?"  

Phil swallowed hard and stared at Clint, his heart pounding.  He smiled.  "You'll laugh at me."  

Clint smiled back at him, the look hesitant and happy and Phil took a bite of his cereal as the tension in the room dropped back down to normal levels.  "Good thing I already do that all the time then, huh?"  

"Very true," Phil agreed, watching as Clint padded closer, his sweatpants riding low on his hips.  "You keep me honest and make sure I laugh at myself."  

Clint nodded seriously.  "Especially when you need it, and you need it more often than you think, Phil."  

Phil rolled his eyes.  "Now you're just being dramatic."  

"You just want everyone to continue to fear you.  You'd lose some of your intimidation if all the agents knew how ticklish you were," Clint teased, sliding into a stool beside Phil, bumping his shoulder.  

"You tell anyone that, and I will dismember you.  Fingers and toes first," Phil said, taking another bite of his cereal.  

Clint laughed, his head falling back.  Phil stared at him and sucked in a breath.  Clint was beautiful, everything about him was absolutely gorgeous.  He reached out and wrapped an arm around Clint's waist, slipping his fingers under his sweatpants.  

Clint pouted at him.  "You haven't answered my question."  

Phil smiled and tugged on the waist of Clint's pants.  "Trust me.  It can wait."  He tugged, lightly pulling Clint into a kiss.  Clint melted into him almost a moment later, trust evident in every single movement.  Phil to this day had no idea what he had done to earn the trust of Clint, especially the level of blind trust the archer had in him.  But he was never going to break it again.  

Especially over something like this.  

Clint pulled back from the kiss and smacked Phil on the shoulder.  "Stop thinking so much."  

Phil laughed and licked his lips.  "I was thinking that my cereal would get soggy, and I am rather hungry.  You wore me out."  

"Phil Coulson, admitting weakness?"  

"No," Phil growled, leaning in and giving the tempting curve of Clint's neck a quick bite.  "I just happen to have an archer who likes to do his best to leave me boneless and completely without brain faculty every time we are in bed together.  I require sustenance."  

Clint gave him another blinding grin and reached up to push his fingers through his hair.  "Well, if that's the reason why, I'd better let you finish your breakfast."  

"Yes you should.  And you should absolutely go back to your room," Phil suggested, eating another spoonful.  At the confused look he was given, he grinned.  "If you think you're escaping without another round, you are very, very, very mistaken."  

Clint laughed, flashed him a thumbs up and slid off the stool, his pants sagging even lower to cling to the curve of his ass.  "Well, I'll see you in bed Phil."  

"Yes," Phil agreed, finishing the last of his cereal.  Things could wait.  And hopefully Clint would let him go about distracting him for a little bit longer.  He just had to make sure that he got around to it soon.  But he had time.  

**  
  
  
**

~!~!~

**  
  
  
**

"You know Phil's had a crush on you for ages, right?  I mean, if you wanted him, I wouldn't get in the way," Clint said, dropping down to Steve's balcony from the floor above.  

"I find it rather disconcerting that you always come in this way rather than using the door," Steve said, looking from his sketch.  The rest of Clint's statement filtered into his mind and he blinked.  "And what are you talking about, Clint?  Phil is head over heels for you."  

Clint waved a hand and sat down next to Steve and grinned at him.  "Yeah, but he had a thing for you way before I was even a thought in his head.  If you want him-"

Steve held up a hand.  "Wait, wait, wait, where did you get the impression that I want him?"  

Clint shrugged.  "You keep staring at him.  The kind of staring that usually means you want to pin someone to the nearest wall and..."  

Steve groaned and then rubbed a hand over his face.  "You are misinterpreting the look I'm giving him entirely."  

"You sure about that?" Clint asked, tilting his head.  

"Yes," Steve said firmly, looking at Clint.

"But you are giving him looks," Clint shot back, raising an eyebrow.  

Steve nodded.  "Yes.  Looks that have nothing to do with desire and everything to do with the fact that I think Phil is being an idiot."  

Clint blinked and took a second to process that.  The last thing anyone ever called someone like Phil Coulson was an idiot.  So what...

"No, I can't tell you why.  It's nothing bad.  At all.  Phil is just being incredibly stupid about something, and I'm reminding him of that every time I see him," Steve said, giving a quick grin.  "He also can't look me in the eye right now, which I will admit to having far too much fun with."  

Clint laughed and looked up at the sky.  "I'm having a hard time matching your description with the Phil Coulson that I know.  Phil's not an idiot about anything.  Ever.  He's Phil."  

Steve smiled.  "I know.  But I also understand why he is being an idiot about this.  That doesn't make it any better, or any smarter, but I do understand why.  It's one of those things that he needs to work through on his own, and when he does, it'll make sense."  

"So you don't want him?" Clint asked, glancing at Steve.  

"No, I don't want him!" Steve said, grinning and bumping his shoulder into Clint's.  "Well, as a friend, maybe.  He doesn't get frustrated with me when I ask questions that do nothing but drive Tony crazy."  

"Cap," Clint said.  "You asked how a lightbulb worked."  

Steve burst out laughing and put his sketchpad off to the side.  "And I will be laughing over the face Tony made for the rest of my life.  I enjoy screwing with him."  

"It reminds you of Bucky, doesn't it?" Clint asked, glancing at the sketchpad, watching as Steve grew quiet and looked out at New York again.  

"Yeah.  A lot of Bucky.  So do you.  You'd have gotten along great with him, I know that for sure," Steve said, his voice wistful as he picked up the sketchbook.  He closed it carefully and stood up.  "Clint, do me a favor."  

Clint blinked and nodded.  "Of course."  

"Just..." Steve exhaled and pushed a hand through his hair.  "We could lose everything that we have at any moment.  We all like to pretend otherwise, but we know it.  Better than most of the world.  Make sure you don't leave any regrets behind."  

Clint stared at Steve's back as he headed back into his apartment.  "Steve?"  

Steve stopped, but didn't turn to him.  Clint stood up as well.  "Do you have regrets?"  

"Far too many," Steve said, looking over his shoulder.  "One that I know is going to haunt me for the rest of my life."  

"Peggy?"  

Steve shook his head.  "No, not Peggy.  She's a regret, but one that's fading with time.  She was almost...like a possibility.  Nothing that I knew I could have, but something I liked to imagine."  

Clint frowned.  "What then?"  

Steve sighed.  "Ask Phil.  He knows."  

Steve stepped back into his suite and closed the sliding glass door behind him.  Clint debated climbing back up to his suite, or up to Natasha's and decided against it.  He sat back down on the balcony and looked up at the sky.  

What regrets would he have if he were to die now?  He had Phil, had had him for longer than he ever would have thought before.  He had a team, who had his back without question.  Clint chewed on his lip.  

Who or what did Steve regret so much?  

**  
  
  
**

~!~!~

**  
  
  
**

Phil had a plan.  He liked plans.  There was a certain poetic-like quality to a proper set of plans.  Everything falling into place, things happening exactly as they were supposed to, without any issues...

Plans were important when one was making a declaration.  He was going to tell Clint tonight.  Tell him, and then deal with whatever would happen afterward.  They both had the next two days off.  And they were going to make sure that they took advantage of them to the fullest.  

He sent another email off and made sure to write a sternly worded letter to Maria.  He and Clint would not be disturbed outside of an emergency for the next two days.  And emergency meant world-ending.  He'd made sure to define that in his letter to her.  World ending.  Chitauri level.  Nothing else would interrupt the two of them.  

Phil took a deep breath and looked down at his hands on his desk.  Perfectly steady, as they always were.  Now he just had to make sure that he could get the words out.  Nothing to do but practice.  

"Clint, I-"

Phil shook his head.  No, no, he had to sound honest.  He had to sound like himself.  Clint would know if it was forced or if he were trying to say it for the sake of saying it.  That had less meaning.  Clint needed to hear the words.  He needed to hear that they meant something, that Clint meant something to him.  

"I love you," he whispered, staring at the mirror.  Phil closed his eyes and tried to imagine Clint's reaction.  For all his knowledge about the archer, and how he would react to almost any situation thrown at him, he had no idea how Clint was going to react to being told how he felt.  

Phil brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder.  His best-case scenario would be for Clint to understand that he had always meant the words, he had just failed to verbalize them, which was an opportunity that-

He focused on the mirror again.  No, no, no.  This was Clint.  Blunt and honest was always the best way to go, and Clint always appreciated it.  Phil cleared his throat and stared at himself.  "I love you.  I never want to leave you.  And for god's sake, Steve doesn't want me."  

He nodded, straightening his tie a fraction before frowning at it.  Would Clint consider the tie to be too Agent Coulson?  He would.  Phil made a note to himself to remove the tie upon arrival to the Tower, before taking Clint to dinner.  

It would be a small diner, one of their favorite restaurants that served excellent coffee twenty-four seven, for dinner.  Nothing fancy, exactly like Clint would want.  Just simple, good, food, in large portions.  

Then he would take Clint home, make love to him, tell him the words Clint needed to hear, and he would have no more regrets.  None.  

He smiled and left his office.  He had a plan, and it was going to be perfect.  

**  
  
  
**

~!~!~

**  
  
  
**

Even the best plans go awry.  

Phil ducked behind the table that Clint had kicked over to give them shelter and looked around.  "What the hell is that thing?"  

"Nothing you want to be hit by, as far as I can tell!" Clint shouted over the racket being made in the rest of the diner.  He glanced over the edge of the table and ducked when attention from one of the robots turned towards them.  "How far out are the others?"  

"Far enough that we definitely need to find our own way out of this mess!" Phil growled.  

Clint looked around and considered his options.  If the others were still too far out to be of immediate assistance, then they needed a plan.  "Have any bright ideas, Coulson?"  

Phil tilted his head up and over the edge of the table, only to duck right back down when another blast of the red laser?  Phaser?  Ray? came towards he and Clint.  "Working on it!"  

"Work faster!" Clint said, glancing around.  He lunged for the silverware that he could see not that far away and turned to get a good look at the robot.  He chucked one of the knives at the eyepiece of the robot.  "Tell Tony to step on it!"  

Phil lifted his head up to snap that Clint get back behind the damn table when Clint shouted in pain, clutching at his shoulder, blood streaming past his fingers.  "Get down!" he ordered, standing up to squeeze off a few more shots from his handgun.  

The robot retreated a few feet and Phil sank back down to the table, watching as the nice white collared shirt that Clint had been wearing start to turn red.  "Clint, are you-"

"I'm fine!" Clint managed to grit out through his teeth.  "Hurts like a sonofabitch, and it's definitely not a laser, since it didn't cauterize the damn wound.  Don't know what it is, but don't fucking get hit by it!"

Phil nodded and patted the other side of his holster, cursing his idea to leave his extra ammunition at the office.  Of course one clip would have been enough in emergencies.  Except when robots were involved.  He snapped open his phone and dialed.  "We need backup and we need it now Stark, Hawkeye is injured and we have no way to defend ourselves.  Get here!" he growled.  

Phil glanced down worriedly at Clint again, the blood patch was getting a lot larger than he was comfortable with.  He had to focus and it had to be on something that wasn't the thought of Clint dying before he got to say what he needed to!  He took a deep breath and stood up again, zeroing in on the robot.  

He fired one straight down the barrel of the gun that was pointed by him and smirked when the robot was immediately engulfed in flames before letting out an enraged squeak.  

"Look at you being a badass," Clint wheezed, staring up at Phil, trying to grin.  "Even when we're cornered, have next to no weapons, and are waiting for backup, you still manage to blow shit up-"

"Keep pressure on that wound, Hawkeye, or I will sit on you to keep you in medical for an extra week," Phil threatened, squinting to see better through the smoke.  

Clint chuckled, then winced when that pulled at his shoulder.  Fuck, that hurt.  "I think I might enjoy that a little bit too much Coulson.  Be careful."  

"Says the man who was shot by some sort of ray gun!" Phil growled.  

"Hey!" Clint protested, reaching out with his foot to kick Coulson in the foot.  "I was shot in the line of duty, you need to be nice to me."  

Phil snorted and fired another shot towards a robot that was starting to peek around the corner.  Six rounds left.  "Clint, I need to tell you something."  

"No, no, no, we're not doing last minute confessions.  We didn't do that in shanghai, and I passed out from blood loss twice while we were waiting for evac!" Clint protested.  

Phil smiled, even though he didn't want to, remembering how scared he'd been, how pale Clint was as he bled out, slowly, on the carpet of their shanghai safehouse.  "Clint-"

Clint groaned and pressed a hand to his face.  "Seriously?  What could be so damn important that you are distracting yourself from shit that is trying to kill us-"

"I love you," Phil said, glancing down at Clint, tightening his grip on his gun.  "It is that important, and I don't care that we aren't in as bad a situation as Shanghai, or Korea, or fucking Cambodia-"

"Fucking Cambodia," Clint echoed on reflex.  

"It is that important, and I have to say it, because I won't let us go another second without saying the damn words that we have both meant for years now and-AH!"

**  
  
  
**

~!~!~

**  
  
  
**

"A hole!  It shot a hole through your damn hand, because you were too busy doing a damn love confession to watch the damn robot turning to aim at you!" Clint raved, one arm cradled in a sling with bandages wrapped around his shoulder.  

Phil chuckled and looked down at the bandages that were wrapped around his hand.  It looked like he had a white club instead of a hand.  "Apparently, yes."  

"How can you be in such a good mood about this?  I am furious with you!" Clint growled, reaching out to gingerly rest his fingers on Phil's bandages before pulling them away.  "Nevermind that Tony was able to come and bail us out immediately after, nevermind that I lost twice as much blood as you-"

"You did, and required more stitches than I did, by the way," Phil said, watching as Clint paced around his hospital bed again.  

"Hole!  In!  Your!  Hand!" Clint shouted, crossing his free arm over his chest before glaring at Phil.  "What are you finding so damn funny?!"  

Phil smiled and rested his head back against the pillows.  "You love me too."  

Clint only stared at him for a few seconds, blinking in surprise.  Phil grinned and closed his eyes.  "I have never seen you this worked up, about anyone.  It's rather adorable."  

"I am not adorable!"  

"You are.  It's wonderful.  I love it," Phil said, opening his eyes to stare at Clint.  Clint had stopped pacing and was staring at him, blinking quickly.  "I love you, actually," he added, just in case Clint had missed it before.  

Clint stepped closer and sank into the chair beside the bed and sighed, lifting Phil's good hand to his face.  He pressed a kiss to his palm.  

"Clint?" Phil asked, curling his fingertips just enough to brush them along Clint's jaw.  "Are you all right?"  

"I can't..."  Clint swallowed and shook his head, then pushed his hand through his hair.  "Thought you knew, and you understood.  I can't, I don't know how to-"

"Clint," Phil interrupted, tugging Clint closer.  "You don't have to say it.  I know."  

Clint set his jaw stubbornly.  "You said it."  

Phil chuckled.  "I did.  But you don't have to."  

"I do.  I mean," Clint cleared his throat and squirmed.  "You're right.  I do.  Uh.  Feel, that way."  

Phil smiled at Clint, happy and wide, before tugging him in for a slow kiss.  "I know you do.  If you're never ready to say it, that's okay.  I know it.  And that's enough."  

Clint nodded and leaned in to nuzzle Phil's shoulder, breathing hard.  "Kay."  

Phil closed his eyes again and relaxed back into the pillows.  His hand was still throbbing, and the reconstruction surgery was going to take months to adjust to.  He likely wouldn't regain full range of motion in his fingers, and would always have damaged nerves in his hand.  

Good thing he was as lethal with his left hand as he was with his right.  

Clint sat up suddenly and stared at Phil.  "Wait!"  

Phil blinked himself out of the doze he had been drifting off into and stared at Clint.  "What?"  

"Is this what Steve had been staring at you for?!"  

Phil laughed as he leaned back into the pillows.  “Yes.”  

Clint smiled and settled back into position.  “Okay, then I won’t have to kill him and hide the body.”  

“Nope,” Phil said, squeezing Clint’s hand.  “Make sure to tell him you yelled at me.  It’ll make him feel better.”  

“Oh, I’m still going to yell at you.  It’s just going to be when your hand has healed, so I can punch you and you can punch back,” Clint said, his voice matter-of-fact.  

Phil laughed until he was breathless and smiled at Clint.  “I love you.”  

Clint smirked.  “I know.”  

**  
  
  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Criticisms welcome!
> 
> You can find me here: http://aria-lerendeair.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can also watch me write fics like this (and dozens of others) live! Follow me on Livestream for fics, shenanigans and a general all-around awesome time! http://new.livestream.com/accounts/7212317


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